The New Day: Part III

By Richard Davidson

Author's Note: This story is going to get a little violent. Parts of it may be unsuitable....augh, I've been stabbed!

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I must’ve blacked out at some point, and I floated back into that misty world of the past. It was that stormy night at the cabin. I had cleverly brought a trunkfull of dry wood, so the fire was raging all night, raging like our love. We had driven sixteen hours straight to get there, the last three in this almost tropical deluge that was rapidly turning biblical. I didn’t care if I died right then and there, we had the fire, we had each other... We made love at least seven times that night, and I knew she was a goddess, for any mortal woman would’ve stopped me at three or four. At that moment I forever struck from my memory any woman I had ever known. I knew right then that I would only know love ONCE.

I stirred, with my head cupped lovingly in her hands. My mouth tasted of blood, and every part of me ached.
“Did you have a nice sleep, lover?” she cooed menacingly.
I was about to kiss her, and pull her close, when the reality of my ropes and pain set in, and I jerked my head away, tried my hardest not to look at her.
“Where’s your partner?” I asked, hoping the answer was “Drowned in the sea.”
“My partner, huh?” she mocked.
“I’d stop calling him scum, and that sort of thing, if I were you,” she crooned, “he’s wound up a little tight right now.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet he is,” I said with the last ounce of smugness I had in me, “now that the only person who knows where to find the money is dead!”
“Yeah, well keep talkin’ and he won’t be the only one.” she looked pretty pleased with that one.
“How’d you get mixed up with him, anyway?” I just had to know.
“Why don’t you tell him, sis?” Frank’s voice boomed, as he came through the door.

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Some notes to myself:
1. If it’s three AM, and you awaken to hear your girlfriend mumbling in her sleep, “Please daddy, I don’t wanna kill him,” you may want to make a note of it.
2. If you’re kind of an unassuming dorky guy, and you meet a smoldering hot babe, and she falls for you, and it seems too good to be true, you may be on to something.
3. Never drink a lot of coffee if there’s any chance a violent criminal is going to tie you up for a really long time, any chance at all.

“So you were only with me to get inside my company, is that it?” suddenly my ego was involved in this again, amazingly.
“Now who’s the genius?” Frank leered, as if that fit into the context of the story somehow.
“Did I disappoint you, baby?” Beth was fully into her “evil” character by now. I was sure Disney would’ve loved this gal. Maybe they could have her murder puppies or something, and then sing a song about it. Or I could. Suddenly, there was music, coming from nowhere, and she jumped up on some crates, and a spotlight magically appeared, and she sang,

“Men light my cigarettes,
Buy perfume and chocolettes
And give me the keys to penthouse suites

It’s caviar, and champagne
It’s always gone to my brain
I walk marble hallways, not the streets

(chorus)
I killed my first man when I was seven
Offed thirteen more by twenty three
I’m a gunslingin’ psycho Mafia babe”
(She’s a gunslingin’ psycho Mafia babe) -amazingly some rats were singing backup at this point!

Frank was leaning over me dramatically, ready to sing his part of the song, when I remembered one more note to myself:
4. Always carry a small, razor-sharp knife in the sole of your shoe.
I had loosened the ropes around my wrist just enough to reach my shoe, and after procuring my favorite weapon, had cut many ropes around my arms. Frank was about to share his gravelly baritone voice with us, when I plunged my knife into his vocal chords. His scream was completely out of tune with the other instruments, but that was the least of anybody’s worries.

(to be continued)

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